Fergie steals the show
And so a British princess got married in a way that was apparently very private, yet curiously public. Guestwise, we had a Geldof girl in a muumuu, Cara Delevingne in drag and Kate Moss as the ghost of benders past. But, best of all, was the bride’s mother — gawky, gurning, gloriously herself — the artist forever known as Fergie in full Ferginian force.
For many of us, the emphasis of Friday’s Royal wedding of Princess Eugenie to tequila brand ambassador Jack Brooksbank was less on the nation’s princess bride than on her mother, Queen Fergiana of York. It was her day; if only because it was one occasion on which she was actually invited to be at the heart of something.
One felt for her from the moment she banged her head while exiting the car. True to form, Fergs immediately raced over to press flesh with onlookers. Colleagues in Windsor tell me that there was a lot of love for her in the crowd, with much “ahing” over her evident jitters and bursting pride.
The duchess’s outfit was spot on: green. Her winged straw hat was satirised as a golden snitch from Harry Potter’s quidditch game.
It was a classic Ferginian move to sport a hat and frock whose colours failed to quite match. Never mind.
Well might she seem nervous, poor lamb. Not only has she been persona non grata among the Windsor posse following her faux pas over the years, she had to walk down the aisle in front of a packed congregation.
Doubtless her nerves were exacerbated by the presence of Prince Philip, who has declined to share space with his former daughter-in-law for the past 20 years.